


Cherry Flavoured

by Della19



Series: Pretty Gentleman [3]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: AU, M/M, Post-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 16:11:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3417089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Della19/pseuds/Della19
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“One does not pop one’s cherry in dressing room two,” Harry quipped to him once, and other than some spank fuel, Eggsy hadn’t thought much more of it, even after they’d started shagging. ‘Cause well, they’re both men with a past - between the two of them, they ain’t got many cherries left to pop, if you catch him.</p>
<p>And then one night Eggsy makes a suggestion and Harry says, in tone Eggys’s learned to recognize as ‘shy,’ “No one ever offered before,” and yeah, it comes back to him real fast.</p>
<p>Or, Eggsy pops a cherry of Harry’s in dressing room one.  Harry/Eggsy, PWP. Part 3 of my Pretty Gentleman series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cherry Flavoured

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Don't own the pretty boys. I'm just taking them out for a ride and getting them all nice and dirty ;)

***************************************

_Hey, street boy, want some style?_

_Your dead end dreams don't make you smile._

_I'll give you something to live for._

_Have you and grab you until you're sore_.

\- The Runaways, Cherry Bomb

***************************************

Occasionally, Eggsy ends up on a mission with Roxy. Kingman are mostly solitary, ‘cause if one agent can take down a hundred goons, you rarely have to send two, but sometimes the party invitations come with a plus one, so might as well, right? And hey, sometimes that’s nice, ‘cause it gives him someone to talk to while he’s stuck at the bar waiting for the target to finish getting blown in the coatroom.

And a really bloody _long_ blow job to boot.

“How long can this _possibly_ take?” Roxy asks, tone somewhere between exasperated and amused, and Eggsy nabs the cherry from her drink before she can stop him and pops it in his mouth.

“Ah, doll, it’s all about the _quality_ of the oral skills, if you catch me,” Eggsy says salaciously, sticking out his tongue to show the knot he’s tied in the cherry stem with a wink and an over exaggerated wiggle of his eyebrows.

Roxy just rolls her eyes at him, but Eggsy thinks that look of hers means she’s at least a little impressed.

“I do hate to interrupt, but your target is on the move again,” Merlin says over the coms, voice echoing dryly into both of their earpieces, and Eggsy clucks his tongue and shots him a terribly fake look of remorse through Roxy’s glasses feed, but then they sight the target on the left side of the room and they’re both back into professional mode, and the mission goes off without a hitch.

“I don’t suppose you could teach me that little trick,” Roxy says when they’re back on the plane, after they’ve switched off both of their glasses, and puts a shot glass of cherries down on the table between them with a challenging raise of an eyebrow.

Eggsy, ‘cause he’s a gentleman, only smirks knowingly at her before he picks up one of the cherries, pops it in his mouth and goes about educating her.

When Amelia, the training plant and recent transfer from the Berlin tech division comes up to him a week later and thanks him, the blush on her cheeks creeping down her neck, Eggsy figures Roxy got the gist of it.

***************************************

So, look, Eggsy’s no virgin, alright, by pretty much any definition, even that American president Clinton’s. Eggsy discovered sex at the ripe old age of 15, and for the past nine years it’s been a favoured hobby of his. Blokes, birds, anything and everything, ’til he figured out what floated his boat and what didn’t. And yeah, it gave him a bit of a rep, ‘specially around them ‘proper’ birds and blokes, virgins who wanted fumblings in the dark, missionary style rather than giving it a try up against a wall, heels digging into his back. Those ones figured ‘cause he’d been around the block a time or two, that made it worth less or ‘sumthing.

Eggsy ain’t got time for those people.

Those people are doing it wrong anyways, in Eggsy’s opinion. It don’t matter whose first, it matters whose _last_ , and anyone not smart ‘nough to know the difference ain’t worth Eggsy’s time. And well, that’s good, ain’t it, ‘cause Eggsy certainly ain’t first with Harry, and it don’t bother him one bit.

“Cause, to be frank, Harry’s experience is part of his appeal. Eggsy likes that Harry’s hands know where to go to make Eggsy’s eyes roll back into his head, likes that his throat has clearly practiced on a cock or two and that his prick knows where to find that sweet spot deep inside. That there were folks before him only means they were dumb enough to let Harry go, and that Eggsy gets to kept him, and benefit off their experience is just an added bonus.

Looking down at the picture Harry makes, all sweaty and sated, properly disheveled from the fuckin’ Eggsy’s just given him, he almost feels sorry for those people.

Almost.

But not quite, ‘cause Eggsy’s ain't of the sort to share. He also ain't the sort to love sleeping in the wet spot neither, and so he makes the trip to the loo - and tries to ignore Mr. Pickle’s judgemental stare - and returns with a warm wet cloth so he can clean up the mess he’s made, like gentleman do. Harry, sex slow and all relaxed accommodates him, rolling to his side so Eggsy has better access. And for a second, looking at that lovely hole of Harry’s, all wet and _shiny_ with Eggsy’s spunk, he thinks about using his mouth instead of the cloth, but its late, and neither of ‘em are up for another round tonight, so Eggsy refrains.

Still, it’s a thought that lingers, and so he says, as he’s finished, setting the cloth aside, “Next time I’ll use my mouth to clean you out.” And then, struck by inspiration, he purrs lowly, “Maybe next time, I won’t even use my cock. I’ll just eat you out ’til you’re _gagging_ from it, ’til you’re cumming cock untouched.” And there’s no real immediate intent behind it, ‘cause like he said, even his prick needs a rest every now and again, before he finishes, eyes tilted up teasingly, “Anyone ever make you cum just from eating you out before?”

“No one has ever ‘eaten me out,’ as you put it,” Harry says, clearly trying for his typical air of composed casualness, but given that he’s still starkers with sex hair he doesn’t exactly pull it off.

“Wot? For real?” Eggsy asks, and he can’t hide his incredulity, ‘cause he can’t imagine how anyone could pass up on the sight of Harry writhing under their mouth. But then, because everybody’s got limits, and Eggsy not the kind of bloke to make anyone feel bad about their’s, he asks, honestly curious, “Why, not your kind of thing?”

“No one ever offered before,” Harry says finally, and his tone is one that Eggsy’s almost never hears from him, but knows to characterize as _shy_.

And well, Eggsy thinks, sliding up beside Harry so he can kiss him lazily, softly, just for the pleasure of snogging him, they’re going to have to fix that, ain’t they?

***************************************

“One does not pop one’s cherry in dressing room two,” Harry quipped to him once, back when Eggsy could only imagine what Harry looked like naked and sweaty instead of knowing. And yeah, that’d been a spank worthy quip, Eggsy ain’t ashamed of that, but even after Harry’d done his Lazarus thing and they’d started shagging, Eggsy hadn’t given it much more thought.

“Cause well, when it comes to sex, Eggsy ain’t sure he even _has_ any cherries left to pop, and he couldn’t imagine how a man who looked and fucked like Harry does would have any either, you catch him?

Rimming, apparently, is the factor that Eggsy didn’t take into account. You can bet he is now though.

‘Cause yeah, he still stands by the fact that first don’t matter as much as last, but he’s be lying out of his _arse_ if he didn’t say he’s rather given the thought of being the first one to spread Harry open with his tongue and do his damn best to _ruin_ him with his not to shabby oral skills if he does so himself.

Thus, for all Eggsy’s ain’t much of a planner, he’s got dressing room one and Harry’s quip stuck on his mind.

And then, one week and a mission after their little conversation in bed they get to the shop and dressing room one is empty, and Andrew, the bloke whose always behind the counter is no where to be found. And to top it all off, Eggsy knows Harry ain’t turned his glasses on yet for the day.

Eggsy takes it as sign.

And so, inspiration striking him he heads into the room, and Harry follows silently behind him, face bemusedly curious at the detour.

That look slides off his face right quick as Eggsy herds him up against the mirror, mouth nipping at his neck and hands busy freeing him from those impeccably tailored trousers. From the way that Harry shoves his _superb_ arse backwards so it brackets Eggsy’s hardening prick, Eggsy figures he ain’t too bothered by the change in plan. Still, delightful as that feeling is, it ain’t the plan, and so, catching Harry’s gaze in the mirror Eggsy sinks down to his knees, rests his hands on the waistband of Harry’s pants and says, with enough intent Harry can’t miss his meaning, “I had ‘sumthing else in mind.”

And he just stays there, doesn’t move a muscle, ‘cause Eggsy knows consent ain’t worth shite if ain't freely given, and he ain’t gonna do nothing that Harry don’t want, gentleman or otherwise.

“Well,” Harry says finally, a light in his eyes that’s only meant good things for Eggsy before, angling his arse just so towards Eggsy’s face as he finishes, all fuckin’ _sass_ , “I suppose we might as well see if you can put your money where your mouth is, so to speak.”

God, Eggsy _loves_ this cheeky fuckin’ bloke.

“Now, ‘member to keep your palms off your prick, and off the mirror as well,” Eggsy drawls, ‘cause he can play this game too, and he’s already got the lube he’d kept in his pocket for this very reason open, already got a finger crooked into that _tight_ hole as he teases, “Wouldn’t want to open whatever’s behind door number one would we?”

Harry just grunts, but he’s braced on his forearms, hands off the mirror, so Eggsy figures he’s got it covered.

And then Eggsy moves his finger away, leans in to lick lightly at Harry’s pretty hole, and gets down to business. And yeah, the lube’s cherry flavoured, ‘cause Eggsy’s an arsehole, but whatever he’s the one that’s gotta taste it anyways, so might as well be a flavour he likes, right?

The puns’ just an added bonus.

Harry just breathes out in one long huff of a sigh, so he does it again, and again, and _again_. And then Harry’s just _melting_ beneath him, going fuckin’ _boneless_ in a series of breaths, his spine curving more as he sags in towards the mirror, leaning more of his weight onto his forearms, and so Eggsy keeps his tongue gentle, soothing, tiny little kitten licks all around him.

A hitch of Harry’s breath comes out in a _moan_ like Eggsy’s never heard from him before.

And look, Eggsy knows there are certain things that turn people’s crank more than others, that one thing that they _lose_ it with. His is prostate stimulation - put a couple fingers up there and tease him, and Eggsy’ll turn into a drooling, panting, _wanting_ mess, as Harry knows and bloody well loves to exploit. But for all that Harry’s always been an enthusiastic participant in whatever sex games they get up to, he’s never had that one thing that just makes him _mental_.

Looking at Harry now in the mirror as Eggsy laps over his hole in long strokes, already just shy of _panting_ when Eggsy’s ain’t even got to the good stuff yet, he figures it might be safe to say they’ve finally found it.

And so Eggsy gets his hands up to bracket Harry's hips, thumbs pressing white dimples into the cheeks of his arse and uses his thumbs to pull, just a little, so he can get to that _needy_ hole a little easier. And then he just _goes_ for it, tenses his tongue and presses in, in, _in_ to Harry’s hole.

Harry answers by moaning out loud, just one _shaky_ breath, and so Eggsy pulls his tongue back into his mouth to get it wetter and thrusts right back out and into Harry. And Harry just pushes back against him, trying to take _more_ of him, something Eggsy is completely fuckin’ on board with. And Eggsy thinks he rather likes the dark taste of Harry's ass - clean, ‘cause Harry’s as meticulous about his hygiene as he is everything else - and just a little bit _sweet_ from the lube, just a little bit fuckin’ _tart_.

Pun fuckin’ intended.

And so he keeps it up, alternates pressing into Harry's body with his tongue, fuckin’ into him steady and strong, then with those tiny licks around the edge, flicking at the tender rim as gently as he can.

And Harry, fuckin' _Harry Hart_ just _loses_ it, starts _babbling_ a stream of nonsense words with a “bloody buggering bastard” and Eggsy’s name thrown in there a few times for good measure.

And so Eggsy just fuckin’ _goes_ for it, ‘cause he wants to feel Harry’s ass convulse around his tongue when he comes. He presses his tongue in one long, firm spiral, all around the rim and then in, screwing his tongue into him and then pulling back for sharp stabs. He moves his thumbs closer so he can pull him open wider and _buries_ his face there - closer, ‘cause he needs to get closer, needs to give him _more_. And Harry seems on board with that ‘cause he _shoves_  his arse back hard into Eggsy’s mouth, and his voice is one long, high-pitched _whine_.

Fuck, Harry’s gonna _kill_ him if he keeps this up.

‘Cause fuck, it’s a pretty fuckin’ _sight_ he makes, and Eggsy knows he must be drooling everywhere and that he's a mite out of control, but _fuck_ if he cares with the _sounds_ Harry is making in his ears. And so he finds himself _moaning_ into Harry's ass with his next thrust, ‘cause Harry's so fucking _tight_ around his tongue and he just wants to _feel_ it, feel him fall apart with his face right against him, ‘cause he's never felt more like they were part of the same thing, never been more willing to be just a _tool_ of Harry's pleasure.

And its the moan that does it he guesses, ‘cause suddenly, Harry's hole is tightening around him and his hips are shaking, and fuckin’ shaking _hard_ , pushing Eggsy's face back and away. And Eggsy’s more than fine with that, ‘cause it means he gets to watch Harry’s face in the mirror as he rides out his orgasm, cumming with his bespoke fuckin’ trousers round his knees, brow creased, his face broken in a _sob_ , flushed and so fuckin’ beautiful, so _lost_ to it.

Eggsy thinks even poets wouldn’t have words for what Harry looks like in that moment.

But fuck, Eggsy ain’t no poet, and he’s so hard its a miracle he ain’t spilled in his trousers like some pimply teen. And then Harry’s slipping down, ‘cause his legs clearly can’t hold him and Eggsy finds himself looking down at Harry, leaning up against the mirror, _fucked out_ and looking back up at Eggsy, head right level with Eggsy’s throbbing prick.

Ain’t no way Eggsy’s able to resist what he does next.

“Open,” Eggsy grunts, prick in hand, and Harry, sex dazed and _pliant_ does, just _opens_ his mouth without protest or question, eyes fuzzy and _adoring_ , and yeah, that’s it for Eggsy, who pumps himself once, _twice_ , before he he’s cumming so hard his vision _whites_ out, shooting his spunk in thick stripes all over Harry’s open mouth, lips, fuckin’ _face_.

When Eggsy comes back to himself, he’s sprawled up against the wall beside Harry, who looks ‘bout as _wrecked_ as Eggsy feels.

There’s a pearl white stripe of his cum on Harry’s glasses.

Eggsy can’t think of any sight that’s ever looked better.

“Don’t suppose you got any other cherries that need popping?” Eggsy croaks, voice fuckin’ _gone_ and Harry laughs, slow and low and _broken_ , and together they just stay slumped there, two debauched, dishevelled, filthy men in bespoke suits, entirely spent and utterly _absorbed_ in each other.

Eggsy thinks he can finally see the appeal of dressing room one.

***************************************

FIN

***************************************

 

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: …Yeah, I don’t even know guys, I think this ship might be breaking my brain or something. Seriously, I don’t even…I might have moved like a level below Hartwin trash at this point. I’m like, Hartwin recycling or something, because so far I seem to have hit oral, anal, butt plugs, rimming and facials and this is in three fics! My kink bingo card must be filling up by now ;) Not sure where I’m going to go from here, because this is sort of a new low (high?) for me! There…are no words. But I regret nothing! So enjoy, fellow perverts, and comments feed my fickle (and apparently a little slutty) muse.


End file.
